


Loves me not

by orphan_account



Series: Batjokes oneshots [8]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman (Movies - Nolan), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, batjokesweek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-10
Updated: 2014-07-10
Packaged: 2018-02-08 05:29:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1928376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"He loves me, he loves me not...."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Loves me not

He loves me, he loves me not

“Do you _love me_?” It was a simple question, and one that haunts Bruce through sleepless nights. He knows that the Joker thinks that he loves him- that the war between them was some grotesque show of affection.  
But the confusion in the other man’s eyes( the green,  _green_  eyes) hurts. And Bruce has no idea why it does.

Does he love him? Bruce wonders to himself. Thinking back, there were so many times that he could have gotten rid of the Joker. If he let him fall that one time. If he did not catch him that one time.  
It seems that most of the time Batman spends with the Joker is spent catching him.

Why does he catch him all the time? On a surface level, Bruce tells himself that the reason is simple. His one, sacred rule. Dig deeper and it’s different. Much more complicated and driven by emotion.

Does he love him? That question again. That awful question that plays out over and over again in his mind, like a song that would not leave his head. He closes his eyes, and the scene replays.

The Joker sits on the edge of that roof top, surrounded by petals. He notices Batman walking up behind him, but stays focused. “He loves me, he loves me not.” He mutters, the rain pouring down on them both, washing away the paint.

“He loves me.” A petal comes off and drifts in the wind, settling on the concrete. “He loves me not.” Another petal comes off. “Joker.” Batman steps closer. The rain drizzled on. It was not a storm. Just a waterfall of misery. “He loves me, he loves me not.” The petals comes off, and only the center and the stem was left.

He picks up another flower. “ _He loves me_.” “Joker.” Batman crouched down in front of him. The Joker lifts his head. The paint is gone. His lower lip trembles a little and Batman notices that he is shivering. The suit provides him sufficient heat. But the Joker, no matter how mad he is, is still able to feel. Physically, at least.

“Do you love me?” Bright green eyes meets with blue ones. Batman was quiet. “I don’t know.” He stands and walks away. Sending the Joker to Arkham is irrelevant. He almost always break out the next day or the next week. “He loves me, he loves me not. He loves me, he  _loves me not._ ” And Bruce has to admit that he hates seeing the Joker go.

That seeing the bruises and lacerations on his face and body after he comes back always sends him into a fit of rage.  
“He loves me, he loves me not.” Does he love him? Bruce asks himself. The petals drifts into the Gotham night. “He loves me, he loves me not.”

Does he love him? Bruce asks himself. “I don’t know.” He tells himself. "I just...don't know." 


End file.
